


you're somebody else

by bluelines



Category: Women's Hockey RPF
Genre: Exes, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-07 19:57:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17967032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluelines/pseuds/bluelines
Summary: “Do you need something?” Kacey asks, but she thinks, if she’s right, that she can tell from how tight Marie’s voice is. She’s annoyed at herself. The way she gets when she wants something.“I need,” Marie says, “I wanted to see you.”





	you're somebody else

Marie goes back and forth on it for hours. 

It’s really late when she gives up. It’s past midnight. The girl she’s with is needy and wants her so bad, and Marie feels sleazy about it, because she doesn’t feel it back. Getting the girl off feels like an obligation at this point, knowing she won’t be into it enough to get off, herself, trying to figure out the logistics of hotel rooms, and leaving before anyone falls asleep is so much confrontation that she’d rather slip out when she’s the only one awake. She hates herself for that too. And she knows that she’s a cliche. 

This girl’s shorter than her and dark-haired and curvy in all the places Kacey isn’t. Marie doesn’t want to be thinking about Kacey like this, making out in the back of a taxi, but she is, of course. Because Kacey is here somewhere, probably at another bar in Toronto, awake. Maybe also with a girl. 

Tonight she knows she’s going to leave as soon as they’re done. It’s only her third time doing this, but she knows she won’t do it again. She’s going to have to go on dates. The idea makes her want to throw up. 

Tonight, she does what she came for. The other girl gets off fast, and Marie is relieved, enough to smile into her neck while the other girl—God, what was her _name_?- clamps her legs around Marie’s wrist. 

“Need that,” Marie says. The girl just relaxes her legs; she doesn’t laugh at what Marie thought was a funny, obvious hockey joke. When she reaches for Marie, Marie stops her hand gently. 

“Can’t,” she says, and let’s the other girl fill in the blanks. It’s technically true. She can’t. 

Can’t get off. 

Twenty minutes later she’s standing outside a closed Tim Horton’s in the sleet, calling Kacey. 

-

Kacey is halfway into bed. Brianna is out—she’s always out, but this time with Johnny, and Kacey is tired and looking forward to clean sheets and a firm bed that’s not hers. 

When Marie calls, she almost doesn’t pick up. Then she thinks of the smile they briefly shared at the end of the game and changes her mind. 

“Hey,” she says, “it’s late, you okay?”

Marie is quiet. Kacey realizes it sounds like how tnhey used to sound, and says, “I was going to bed.”

“Sorry,” Marie says.

“Do you need something?” Kacey asks, but she thinks, if she’s right, that she can tell from how tight Marie’s voice is. She’s annoyed at herself. The way she gets when she wants something. 

“I need,” Marie says, “I wanted to see you.”

“To see me,” Kacey repeats. 

“It’s late,” Marie echoes, “you know why.”

“Yeah,” Kacey says, “but we’re not doing this. You didn’t want to.”

She’s impressed with herself that it doesn’t come out bitter. She’s not actually mad about it anymore, but whatever this is, it’s annoying. She’s not interested in getting her hopes up again. 

“No,” Marie says, “it still wouldn’t work. I just—not, like...just for tonight. Not even overnight. A half an hour.”

“A half an hour,” Kacey laughs.

“An hour,” Marie amends, “and then I’ll go right away.”

Kacey considers it. She also considers her death when Brianna finds out. 

“Go to a gay bar,” she says. “Use your Tinder that I know Jill made you that you’ve probably never touched. This is what you wanted.”

“I do,” Marie says, “I was just at a bar, it’s just not—I’m not. I can’t...I don’t get off. Like that.”

Kacey loses her breath. She really thinks about that for a second, maybe longer, probably too long. Marie can’t get off with anyone else but her. On the one hand, that means she’s tried, probably tonight. On the other, Kacey’s ego has never been this big. 

“I kind of like you like this,” she says, “it’s good for team morale.”

“I can hang up,” Marie says, “if you’re not gonna fuck me.”

It’s the perfect thing to say. Kacey feels like she’s been punched. Hearing Marie say it like that, with just the right amount of bite, is all she needed to hear, and she knows that Marie knows it. It’s high on the list of stupidest choices she could make, but she can’t wipe the grin off of her face. They’re friends. She’s done this with friends before. 

“I’ll text you the address,” she says. 

-

Marie is nervous until Kacey opens the door. As soon as she does, Marie is at ease, and she resents herself for it. Kacey steps back to let her in, and Marie presses her lips together, begging herself not to say anything stupid. It feels like anything she might say would be stupid. 

“You’ve had a night,” Kacey says. It might be about the All-Star game, but it probably isn’t. 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Marie says. 

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Kacey says breezily, like she hadn’t blocked and unblocked Marie on every social networking website on and off for months after the breakup. Marie is the mess this time. She doesn’t like how it looks on her. Instead of answering, she takes Kacey’s face in her hands and kisses her. 

Kacey kisses her back. It feels different than Marie remembers, like there’s still distance between them even though they’re pressed front-to-front. She doesn’t have time to consider the lack of intimacy, she just needs to get off. Really get off. She can feel herself getting worked up just thinking about it, knowing that with Kacey she can, and almost definitely will. 

Kacey only kisses her for a few seconds before she takes a step back and ties her hair up. Marie pulls her shirt over her head and Kacey does the same. 

“How do you want it?” Kacey asks. 

Marie wishes she didn’t have to talk Kacey knows her well enough to _know_ that. She doesn’t answer, just unbuttons her jeans, hoping that will distract Kacey enough to stop talking. It doesn’t. 

“Fingers?” she asks. “Mouth? Both? Neither?”

“Neither,” Marie counters, “as if you brought a strap-on.”

“I didn’t,” Kacey says, “but there’s other things we can do.”

Marie has a very vivid flashback of Kacey straddling her in a way she couldn’t triplicate if she tried. With Marie’s leg hiked around Kacey’s hip and Kacey grinding down against her, they’d come together for the first time. 

“Anything,” Marie says, shoving her jeans over her hips, “whatever you want.”

That was a mistake. She knows it as soon as it leaves her mouth. 

“Whatever I want,” Kacey echoes. She slips out of her leggings and pushes Marie back towards the bed. Marie drops herself unceremoniously onto it, settling right in the middle, and Kacey kneels next to her, hands on her thighs. Marie feels studied. 

“Take your bra off,” Kacey says. Marie does. She wants Kacey to kiss her again, but she thinks the time for that has probably passed. 

—

Kacey leans down, bracing herself with a hand on either side of Marie’s shoulders, and kisses Marie’s neck, trailing down along her throat. She pauses at Marie’s collarbone, bites her once, just to feel her jump. She does, of course, like always, and Kacey doesn’t hesitate to put her hand on Marie’s stomach to feel her abs clench. She might as well. It’ll be the last time. 

When Marie exhales audibly, Kacey moves lower. She teases Marie automatically, exhaling against her breast. Marie fists her hands into the bedspread, and it occurs to Kacey that maybe she should be nice. If Marie is telling the truth, it’s been a _long_ time since she’s gotten off with anyone but herself. But she did ask for it. 

Still, Kacey stops teasing. She mouths against the curve of Marie’s breast and flicks her tongue across Marie’s nipple. She used to be able to get Marie off like this, in the early days. All it took was her tongue and a knee pressed between Marie’s and a little patience. She wonders if Marie remembers that too, and she gets her answer when she presses her knee between Marie’s legs and scrapes her teeth just barely across Marie’s nipple.

“Not like this,” Marie croaks, and Kacey grins against her skin. 

“So not whatever I want,” she answers. Marie reaches up and tugs at Kacey’s hair, tugs it out of the hair tie like she always did when they were together. Kacey bats her hand away and ties her hair back again. It feels good to be contrary like that. It makes her feel like she has more control over this. Like it’s really, truly _different_ than it was before the breakup, like maybe this isn’t quite as stupid as it seems at first blush.

Kacey trails lower, trailing kisses along Marie’s breastbone and over her stomach. With one hand, the one she’s not using to hold herself up, she replaces her mouth with her hand and tweaks Marie’s nipple between her knuckles. Marie squeaks and arches up under her, and Kacey resists the urge to dive between Marie’s legs and give her what she wants right away. She loved getting Marie unwound like this. At least now when they play she gets to remember how easy this is for her to do. It’s even better to know that she’s the only one.

When her lips hit Marie’s hipbone, Marie reaches for her shoulders.

“Kacey,” she says, and Kacey nips at her just because she can, because she really doesn’t like hearing Marie say her name like that.

“What?” she says, lifting her head. Marie is bright pink.

“Just,” Marie says, “do something, I don’t know.”

“You do know,” Kacey says, “and I am doing something.”

Marie makes a frustrated noise and Kacey pinches her inner thigh. She’s already told herself she’s not going to touch Marie between her legs until she asks for it. 

She slides her hand closer, along Marie’s upper thigh, and Marie lifts her hips but doesn’t say anything. She’s biting her lip so hard Kacey’s momentarily concerned that she’ll split it.

“This was your idea,” Kacey says, “tell me what you want.”

Marie stiffens. 

“You know what I want,” she says. When Kacey doesn’t move, she closes her eyes and adds, “I came here for you to fuck me, c’mon.”

It’s good, but it’s not enough. Kacey strokes her thumb along Marie’s inner thigh, and Marie sighs wearily, as if the weight of God and the entire world is on her shoulders.

“Use your fingers,” she says, “please.”

The ‘please’ is what gets Kacey. Marie’s so polite, even when she doesn’t want to be. She’s pretty clearly annoyed, but she’s still _here_. Kacey does her best not to laugh and focuses instead on finally moving her hand between Marie’s legs. Usually she would be doing more--pressing her face into Marie’s neck, kissing her, something--but this time she just gets to watch, using her other hand to hold Marie’s hip down to the bed. She teases first, stroking with her thumb, partially because she’s hell-bent on enjoying how worked up Marie is. 

When she finally moves her thumb and makes that first, tight circle, Marie gasps and claws at the bedspread. Kacey knows her well enough to know that means it was too much too fast, so she doesn’t do it again just yet. Instead she turns her hand over and slides two fingers into Marie, who makes the most obscene noise that Kacey’s ever heard in her life. She loves it. Marie has gone from pink to red and is covering her face with her forearm. Kacey almost wants to tell her to watch.

-

It takes her a few seconds to adjust to Kacey’s fingers again. Marie hasn’t let anyone else do this, so it’s been ages, but she _wants_ it. She breathes until it feels right, and then, immediately, she wants more. She knows that Kacey can tell that she’s relaxed, but of course Kacey doesn’t move. She just breathes against Marie’s inner thigh until Marie gets up the nerve to speak again, digging her heels into the bed.

“Come on,” she says, and Kacey does.

Kacey’s long, dexterous fingers are all Marie’s been thinking about for hours. It was worth any awkwardness to have this, to feel like this again, rocking against Kacey’s hand, riding her fingers. She needs a little more to get off, but she’s content doing this for now. She’s uncovered her face so that she can hold onto the bedspread again, and when Kacey pulls away she groans. 

“Fuck,” she mumbles. 

“Again?” Kacey asks. Marie’s too far gone to be embarrassed anymore. 

“Your mouth,” Marie says. 

Kacey responds immediately. She pushes Marie’s thighs apart with one hand on each and puts her mouth to use. It’s a mess, Marie’s a mess, and she can tell that Kacey loves it. She doesn’t need to be told; when she reaches down and claws at Kacey’s upper back, Kacey moans against her. Marie has started babbling under her breath, because she’s close and she knows Kacey can’t understand her French like this. 

Kacey brings her fingers back again and Marie comes immediately, and _hard_. 

-

Kacey feels very, very good about herself. She can’t actually see it, but she’s seen it enough times to know: Marie is squirming, panting, pulling the covers half off of the bed, her heels dig into the mattress. She’s sat back before to watch, but she knows she can make it happen a second time if she sticks with it, so she does. 

And Marie doesn’t stop her. 

Kacey pulls her fingers back and moves her head to tease again, pressing messy, open-mouthed kisses to Marie’s inner thighs. Marie is still shaking, and Kacey would chirp her about it if she wasn’t afraid to end things too soon.

She’s also tired of asking Marie what she wants as if she doesn’t already know. Now that Marie’s said it, Kacey’s not really interested in hearing her speak again. 

“Roll over,” she says, sitting back on her heels. It’s a gamble. Marie probably doesn’t want to be taking orders from her and could very easily just get up and go. But she’s still coming down from her first orgasm and she _likes_ being taken from behind and kacey knows it and Marie knows that she knows. So Kacey isn’t exactly shocked when Marie rolls onto her stomach. 

Marie’s back is absurd. Kacey’s stomach actually flutters looking at it, and it takes all her self control not to reach up and trace the lines of muscle definition along Marie’s traps, to follow the dip of her spine between her shoulder blades. She doesn’t, but she looks. And wishes they were in Calgary, where her harness is sitting unused in the bottom drawer of her night table. 

Kacey tugs Marie up onto her knees with one hand on her hip. It’s more of a suggestion than anything else, because Marie is ready and wants it and knows how this goes. Kacey trails her hands along the backs of Marie’s thighs, then over her ass. Marie politely clears her throat. 

“Thought you might need a sec,” Kacey says. She slides a hand between Marie’s legs and finds to the contrary. It’s as if two fingers is suddenly nothing. She _really_ misses her harness when Marie moans into her forearms. Marie pushes back against Kacey’s hand until Kacey can’t see her fingers at all, and then it’s Kacey’s turn to curse quietly. 

She doesn’t start slow. She clearly doesn’t need to. Marie groans and arches her back and thrusts back against Kacey’s hand as if she needs the extra impact. Kacey understands intuitively but she waits until Marie has broken out into a thin sheen of sweat before she reaches around with her other hand. Now Marie is trying to grind forward against that hand and Kacey’s fingertips, and Kacey is still moving her other hand. 

This time when she comes Marie is silent, choking out soft sounds that aren’t for Kacey to hear. Kacey stops moving and lets Marie take what she needs. She watches Marie whimper and work herself between Kacey’s hands until she’s still, breathing audibly, resting her forehead in her hands. 

“Well,” Kacey says when she pulls away, “there you go.”

It sounds stupid, but she doesn’t know what else to say. She wants to touch herself, get herself off, but doing that while Marie is still here feels like crossing a line somehow. 

And she needs to wash her hands. 

Marie doesn’t look at her, and Kacey is briefly pissed about it, watching Marie get to her feet and collect her things. She’s mad until she sees that Marie is still bright red, and then she gets it. Marie isn’t disgusted with herself or with them—she’s mortified. Kacey softens immediately, but she resists the urge to comfort Marie, to tell he she has nothing to be embarrassed about. That’s not her job anymore, and if there’s nobody around to do it, it’s on Marie, not her. But then, of course there’s not. If there was someone else Marie wouldn’t be here. 

“Sorry,” Marie says, like it was an inconvenience. She hesitates and then makes an attempt at furtive eye contact that reminds Kacey of when she was 22. 

“I can return the favor if you want,” she says, “but I’m assuming you don’t.”

Kacey doesn’t. 

She can’t believe it. She really doesn’t. She wants _someone_ to go down on her, but she very much doesn’t want it to be Marie. 

“You’re good,” Kacey says. 

“I won’t ask you to do this again,” Marie says, “I just don’t have time to talk to people and I was—I worked myself up. Over and over.”

“Might want to avoid that,” Kacey advises sagely. 

Marie laughs. “Yeah,” she says, “just hockey, I guess.”

“That’s what you wanted,” Kacey reminds her gently, and she’s surprised when Marie almost looks sad about it. She’s not trying to make a point; it’s just the truth. But she can understand needing a release. She’s human too. 

“I’ll see you around,” Marie murmurs, and then she’s gone. 

Kacey gets back in the shower. She thinks of absolutely nothing when she gets off with her head pressed back against the tile, and when she dreams, it’s about skates on ice, nothing more.


End file.
